Such is Life in the Zone
by TheWolfmanJack
Summary: A twisted perversion written on a whim, read at your own discretion.


Major Degtyarev was not a man easily snuck up on. As an experienced STALKER and a USS field operative, he had years of training and real life combat experience. Water squelched in his boots as he walked, despite his best efforts, and the best intentions of the Sunrise suit designer, water still found its way into the padding of the suit, boots, and any other part that decided to soak up the cool liquid. His time in Zaton had helped him learn to deal with the discomfort, but it still aggravated him nonetheless.

It had all been worth it though, in his hands he clutched a valuable Firefly artifact- and with a Bear detector no less! Such a thing was unheard of among the Loners, but there it was. It had registered as no more then the smallest blip on the circular screen, and for a moment he had thought it was a glitch from the detector becoming water logged. But every time he passed a certain point, the green light lit up and the tell tale beep split the relative silence of the zone. Taking small strides, he swiped the air with the detector, trying to catch the area where the artifact would be located. Finally down to a short arc, Andrew knelt, until the beeping was almost a constant whine, and as if from the ether, the artifact appeared, but just as Degtyarev pocketed the detector to nab it, it disappeared just as fast. He brought out the detector again, the artifact flickering as if it wasn't anchored to his plane of existence. Settling on his haunches, Major Degtyarev looked to where the artifact faded in and out of visibility. It barely remained for a split second, focusing on that spot, detector poised in the air, right hand hovering next to it, counting seconds to himself. Fast as lightning, his hand snapped out, fingers grasped something solid, yet otherworldly, and wrenched it from its nest.

Degtyarev landed on his posterior, swamp muck spreading moisture through his pants, toes already beginning to prune. Despite these discomforts he was rather pleased with himself. Even for a STALKER with as much experience as him, the Firefly was a rare artifact to come by. For a little while he marveled at it, he thought back to a USS zone expert describing it to him, he had hearkened it to the Sun, a mass of energy all of its own. Even as he held it, he could feel the energy, including radiation, emanating from the sphere in his hands, pulsing and warm, small columns of light coming out at alternating intervals. It was truly a sight to behold, it almost pained him to know that he would likely come to sell the thing for more useful items in the zone.

Tucking the artifact into his bag, Degtyarev brought his trusty Hilda from its strap on his shoulder. "Hilda" was an over and under breakaway rifle that he had picked up off a dead rookie early in Zaton. It was a pity that the man died what was clearly only a short way into his journey, but as they said, "Suck is life in the zone," and Andrew would be damned if he didn't take the short breaks he could get. Most were confused when he would come into a camp with Hilda on his shoulder, the over and under rifle was widely regarded as a rookie's weapon, despite its many standout applications, and that stigma usually prevented many of the more experienced STALKERS from carrying it. But Hilda had served him well, she kicked like a mule but the sheer knockdown power the weapon possessed never prevented him from using it. From knocking out packs of the garden variety Blind and Pseudo dogs, to dealing the killing blow on a Controller, Hilda had yet to fail the Major. His memory cast back to the young man who had clutched the rifle in his bloody fist, the look of terror on his face, for a moment Andrew shook, instead he pondered on what little he knew about the man before his untimely death: what could be gleaned from the weapon he now carried. He was obviously a very fastidious man, meticulous about cleaning and maintaining his weapons, for when Degtyarev had first stripped the gun apart, it seemed as if it had just been off the assembly line, despite noticeable barrel wear. Furthermore, the name "Hilda" had been etched into the stock, long and flowing, likely done with a hot metal iron during a moment of rest around one of the many campsites. The man had a hobby at least. Furthermore, upon shaking the man down for further supplies, he happened upon a picture of a young woman, blonde and tanned, probably an American from pudgier cheeks and plaid shirt she wore. Further searching revealed a U.S. Passport, confirming his previous assumption. Putting these personal effects back on the man, Degtyarev stepped up and away. As a STALKER, he yearned to give the man a proper funeral, thousands of miles away from home, devoured by mutants was nothing any man should endure. But he had to leave him, he was on the USS's time now, he couldn't afford to waste time on his mission. He had made a mental note to tell someone at the next camp about the man, so that he may receive a proper burial.

Shaken from his thoughts by a queasy feeling in his gut he had come to know as a tell-tale sign of radiation poisoning, Major Degtyarev stopped for a moment, catching his breath from the brisk pace he had maintained, and also to fish a bottle of Cossack's Vodka from his bag. It was said the drink possessed anti-radiation properties, something about flushing the radiation from organs where it was commonly stored, but he couldn't help but wonder if it actually did. But it numbed the queasy pain at least, if only for a little while. Downing the foul brew and discarding the bottle, Andrew trudged back in the direction of Yanov station, mind still lingering somewhere between the fresh artifact tucked away in his bag, and the young man who's rifle he had pilfered. Some time later he had to stop again, for Vodka ran through him like water through a creek and he had to piss like a race horse.

Finding a tree, since going where one stood simply seemed like a social faux pas, even in the desolate zone, he nestled himself up against the tree, leaning Hilda on the other side, he unzipped the various zippers, clasps, and buttons that held his suit shut. Although protective, the damn things weren't user friendly in the slightest, a necessary sacrifice it seemed. Answering nature's call, all the pressure came off him at once, but suddenly he tensed. It was almost like a gust of wind on a cold Autumn day, deep roar, quiet but distinct once more shattered the peaceful illusion the zone held. And then it happened, all in an instant the beast was upon him, Degtyarev knew a bloodsucker attack when it happened, and he had the scars to prove it. It tore at his helmet, seeking the joint where his neck and shoulder met, the preferred strike point for the bloodsucker. Slipping out from its grasp, helmet coming off in the confusion, the Major wheeled around, drawing his knife as the bloodsucker on turn closed the small gap between them. Ducking its clawed swipe, Andrew thrust forward with his knife, and he knew it had met its mark, for the creature cried out in pain as the blade broke off between its ribs, leaving a useless polymer handle to Degtyarev. But it had served its purpose, dashing past the mutant, blood pounding in his ears, he made a beeline for Hilda, it was loaded, and he knew a single blast at this range would all but decimate the creature. All that stood between him and survival was a few more strides, he reached out, ready to dive for the weapon if necessary- only to fall flat on his chest. A pain in his ankle signaled the bloodsucker had recovered faster than he expected, and now reeled him in with new found strength, loosened pants coming down in the process, but it barely phased the Major as he was intent on his weapon. It was all Andrew could do to claw at the dirt, oaken stock of his trusty rifle looming ever further with each pull of the mutant.

It's twisted claws came up around his midsection once it ran out of leg, poking holes in his weathered bodysuit, a gnarled hand met his collarbone, and he could hear the heavy breathing of the mutant near his ear. It made his skin crawl, he had been close to mutants before, but this was too close. Bracing himself for the tentacles to latch onto his neck and draw their nutrition, he had wrenched his eyes shut. But it never happened, instead, he felt an oozing slime on his ass, and a heat that didn't belong there.

It all hit him at once. Bloodsuckers were human after all, if only a mutant now. And it would be logical to assume that some human traits would have survived the mutation. But said traits were not the desirable kind in a six foot tall monster. Claws gripped tight, drawing blood from his neck as the beast pushed forward, it had to be the most painful thing he had ever felt in his left, as if he were being penetrated by a cherry hot steel bar, rending him apart. The thing had no decency, no courtesy, only desire, and what it desired was not beneficial for the Major. On and on it went, Andrew felt weak in the knees, sick to his stomach, and felt altogether out of body. All the while the creature simply pounded away mercilessly, digging still deeper into the Major's neck. For a moment, Degtyarev had thought it was over, for the creature seemed to be slowing its pace, suddenly he was in the air, up briefly, and then flat on his back, staring up at the creature that used him up as nothing more than some kind of fuck doll. It reached down with its head, finally latching tentacles onto his neck, drawing blood to the point where he thought he would pass out. But fate wasn't so kind to him, as the creature let unlatched just as he saw white begin to eat at the edges of his vision. With a bellowing roar and renewed vigor, the bloodsucker thrust back into the man, deeper and harder than ever before, and what Degtyarev thought was possible. At this point, he couldn't even feel his legs, and it was all that he could do to stare up at the beast's glowing eyes. Bile came up his throat, and he knew there would be no sense in dirtying himself further, so with a choke, he swallowed it back, shuddering all the while.

"No," Degtyarev thought to himself, "Not like this."

And with a last ditch effort, he punched the creautre in the chest with all the remaining strength in his body. It was a resounding blow, to be sure, and it likely would have shattered bones in a normal man. But it only served to anger the beast, earning him a sharp swipe across the face, leaving four deep gouges along his cheek and neck. And with a single massive thrust, the bloodsucker penetrated the furthest it had yet, and Andrew felt his entire inside become slick and wet with a black viscous fluid that now flowed copiously from his gaping and abused hole. Apparently sated, the bloodsucker got up and lumbered away from the bloody, broken, violated, wounded, and all but insane Major Degtyarev. The beast didn't even cast a second glance at the human it had just raped for its own personal pleasure, simply listing lazily toward the swamp where many of its kin undoubtedly lived. Dragging himself by dirt clods, inch by inch, Andrew worked his way back to the tree, where Hilda still stood resting against it. Pulling it down, it suddenly seemed much heavier than before. Pressing the lever to open the barrels, Degtyarev made sure he had a dart round chambered in the first barrel, pulling the rifle back together with a resounding 'click.' Settling the beaded sight on the retreating monster, Degtyarev muttered to himself,

"Such is life in the zone." As his finger fell upon the trigger.


End file.
